Reblog: Grand opening: Stinewriting on Etsy

I picked up my wife’s christmas present two years ago from Etsy. Some custom soft leather labels for her to sew into the clothes she was making. Came all the way from an artisan in Vladivostok! I thought they were quirky and unique.

I don’t know if I spelled her name wrong or something but after Christmas Day, I never saw these labels again!

Anyway I share Christine’s post with you:

Stine Writing

https://www.etsy.com/listing/813236079/handbound-journal?ref=listing_published_alert

Only a few items for now but the inventory will be growing!

Handbound journals

After watching a video https://youtu.be/pb5ckTXwCwY via someone else’s blog post, I have begun making hand-bound journals. They will be for sale on ETSY. I can make them customized for a more personal gift. I will be adding more, with different details to each one. Right now I have each listed as a single product because I make them all differently.

Please check my shop out and share!
Thank you for your support!

View original post

The new Valentine’s Day Massacre?

As I was browsing through my reader this morning, I saw a post from CARAMEL. In her post, she refers to Valentine’s Day.

Now, I’ve been married almost 21 years. In fact our anniversary is next month. See? I do remember it! That’s probably not long in comparison to a lot of you, but plenty long enough to have decided whether she’s a good’un or not*.

* most of the time 🙂

On the subject of Valentine’s Day, we both agree that we can’t be bothered. As with many festivals, it just seems like an excuse for somebody to try and sell us something. Wrap something in a pretty bow, claim it is for Valentine’s, then double the price. And, it’s probably something we never wanted in the first place!

But in saying that, I’m aware that I am the original Ebenezer Scrooge! (Okay, maybe not quite the original 🙂) But certainly starting to fit nicely into the role of grumpy old man. So, I wondered what you guys thought of it?

I’ll try to create a poll to let you just answer good/bad, but feel free to expand your view in my comments if you wish.

And then I’ll try and figure out the results. If they don’t appear as if by magic, I’ll put them in a comment in a couple of days.

Will No mean No?

Hahaha, remember this guy? Well, I studiously avoided his calls over christmas. As John commented, sooner or later he’d get the message.

This morning he turned up on my doorstep. With hindsight, I’m not really surprised – when god handed out subtlety, this guy was standing next to a house brick.

“I did call you a few times over christmas”, he says. Now, I’m fifty-two years old, I see no point is worrying about my own sublety, not in my own house. “Yes, I got your message but I didn’t reply because I didn’t want to go to lunch with you“, I said. Then I added, “You can’t come in because I am just getting ready to go out“, just in case he thought I’d make him a coffee. As it happened, I was going out. In terms of a time to visit, he’d timed it perfectly, from my perspective.So I sent the guy away.

I was polite but firm. Okay, maybe not so polite 🙂. But I wanted to be loud and clear. This guy, as I’ve said, is not the quickest on the uptake, so I’m wondering whether he’ll turn up again and I’ll just have to resort to “Pi** off and don’t come back“. I wonder if that’s direct enough?

I am a bit incredulous. I mean, if I don’t answer this guy’s calls on two separate phone lines, why then come around to my house? Just to have me to confirm it it personally? Or maybe to check whether both lines were faulty?

Mister Bump

I’m fifty-one. I”ve been married twenty years. It’s been a while since I broke up with somebody.

Once upon a time I did a bit of work for a big computer company. In fact, that was how I came to be living in this part of the world. Of course, while I was working with them, I met several of their employees. One guy in particular had some relation to the project I was there to deliver, so I had almost daily contact with him.

Their structure back then, they had two tiers of programmers. Some were the glory boys, whose job was to develop new products. Then there was another tier of plodders, whose job was to support existing products. It was a demarkation that I’ve never really seen with other clients.

This guy was one of the plodders. I speak as somebody who was strong enough that I…

View original post 747 more words

The Other Guy

A while back I had an email conversation with a chap from some company.

This chap obviously added me to the company’s contact database. I received a couple of messages. Dear Guy. Some of you know my real name. For the record, it is not Guy.

I try to be polite, so I replied to their message, just to find out:

  • whether they were actually mailing Guy. In which case, please stop sending messages to me. Or,
  • whether they were actually mailing me. In which case, please get my name right in future.

I thought nothing more of it.

But the mails kept coming. To Guy. So that tells me that either:

  • the company don’t bother reading their correspondence. Or,
  • that the company can’t be bothered updating its system.

So what happens? The messages go straight to my Junk folder. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Now, there’s effective marketing!

Oh, and my image? I typed guy into Pixabay, and that’s what I got back.

To Guy, whoever he may be.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I’m fifty-one. I”ve been married twenty years. It’s been a while since I broke up with somebody.

Once upon a time I did a bit of work for a big computer company. In fact, that was how I came to be living in this part of the world. Of course, while I was working with them, I met several of their employees. One guy in particular had some relation to the project I was there to deliver, so I had almost daily contact with him.

Their structure back then, they had two tiers of programmers. Some were the glory boys, whose job was to develop new products. Then there was another tier of plodders, whose job was to support existing products. It was a demarkation that I’ve never really seen with other clients.

This guy was one of the plodders. I speak as somebody who was strong enough that I was able to sell my skills per-day as a consultant, very comfortable that I would pick up more work someplace when the assignment ended. He definitely existed at a slower pace of life. Furthermore, very different to me.

For a start, family money. His job wasn’t particularly important to him, not the way mine was to me. I always had a passion for what I did, that people paid me to do it was a bonus! In politics, too, this guy was very different – more recently he has argued why it is a good thing that people (and companies) avoid paying tax, and also why his children’s private school should be classed as a charity, when the only people who benefit are…his children! In a nutshell, not at all my cup of tea. Sure, I could work with the guy, I could work with anyone, but we never became friends.

So that was that. I worked a six-month stint with this company, then decided to move on. It wasn’t a brilliant contract and I easily found better clients. However, I lived probably only ten miles from this guy, so we exchanged phone numbers and kept in touch from time to time. We were kind-of bonded by the fact that we had our kids very close to each other, just a few months apart, and as they grew we would meet at the local play-zone or McDonalds. But still, an acquaintance rather than a friend. In fact, he must have irritated me at some point such that I didn’t call him, and stopped returning his calls. Even my wife agreed that he was weird – an example being how he would walk, uninvited, into the bedrooms when he visited my house. Judge for yourself – was I wrong to object?

So I was happy to consign this guy to my past.

Fast forward ten years. About a year after the stroke. This guy turns up on my doorstep. With my eyes, I can now barely recognise him, but wanting to be polite, I invite him in. It turns out that he had left this computer company. They had a round of voluntary redundancies, he put himself forward and, guess what? He’d tried to go the same way that I had gone, as a consultant, but had struggled to find work – in contrast I worked for twenty years and was without work about a month in total. In that time, I only had six clients – they used to like having me around.

However during the course of the conversation, he asked if I wanted to arrange a pub lunch. It was not long after the stroke, I wasn’t getting out much, and a pub meal every now and again is more appealing than a cheese sandwich.

And that became a pattern, every four months or so. Still, only really as an acquaintance – when we talked politics, I realised just how different we still were. When we talked about his interests (we seldom talked about my interests), I realised just how different we still were. At the last count, he had decided that he had now retired, to live completely off his investment income.

Our last meeting was back in March. As I have previously mentioned I work on home-based projects now, and this guy took me on a four-hour lunch. Even if I am enjoying myself, four hours is too long by far. And I couldn’t just come home – we were in a village that was too far away to just walk home. I mentioned halfway through that I had better get back home to work, but this went ignored. It wouldn’t be so bad if we’d had something common to talk about, but no. So I basically decided that that was the last lunch. I get out frequently enough nowadays to not get over-excited about a visit to the pub.

Fast forward again, to now. No phone call since March, I thought that this guy was finally as fed up with me as I was with him. No matter. But now, three phone calls in the last week. So far, I’ve just let them go to voicemail and deleted them, because I’m not interested in going out to eat, or even in speaking to this guy. I don’t partucularly want to be confrontational here, although I realise I have probably already been rude by ignoring the calls.

Any ideas what I should do????

Odd

I’ve been out these last few days, so took the opportunity today to catch up on some laundry. I’m quite lucky these days in that I get through sufficiently few clothes, I can get by with a launder every couple of weeks.

My bedsheet was a bit smelly, so I decided to wash that today. Strip the bed. Ironically, I also use the bed as a dumping-ground for freshly-laundered clothes, I generally gave up on anything fancy after the stroke. For the same reason, I don’t iron. Have you ever tried ironing one-handed? If someone looks at me and thinks dishevelled, what can I do? The people who know me, they understand.

Anyway, in order to strip the bed, I first have to divest if of its pile of clean washing. In amongst which, there are three odd socks. WTF?

When a pair of socks is dirty, it goes into the laundry basket. As a pair. Come wash day, they get taken from the laundry basket, as a pair. I check. Then on into the tumble dryer, as a pair. Finally, onto the bed. Each step, I check, so how come there are three bloody odd socks on the bed!

Now I could put this down to stroke. Quite plausibly, my eyes aren’t so good any more. But my wife says the same thing happens to her, and her eyesight is good.

The thing is, that I can never remember this happening before the stroke. I laundered for years, and don’t remember losing a thing! Maybe I just didn’t care so much about socks back then?

So I’m sitting here, wearing one grey sock and one blue. Well, I’m not going to throw the bloody things away, am I? I’m dreading tomorrow because one of my feet will be freezing! And, I’ve concluded that some sadistic sod has started stealing our socks! Come on, own up, it isn’t YOU, is it?

Note to Duracell

These batteries arrived yesterday. Do you see that label “child safety pack” around the left-hand battery?

Well, they’ll be pleased to know that these batteries are also adult-proof. So much so that, to get the batteries out of the packaging, I needed to use my teeth.

So, putting a button battery into your mouth. Just how “recommended” is that?

Furthermore, go to Duracell’s web site to tell them about this. You might get to make your point, after you’ve input your DNA sequence!I couldn’t be bothered, just make a note not to buy from them again.

Trapped

Meant to mention, lunch from hell last week.

4 hours, 10 miles from home (far too far away to just walk out). I wouldn’t mind, I’ve now kicked off my new development project so I had definite things to do once I got home. I don’t work particularly quickly these days but there is at least a to-do list, and I know that sitting in a pub all afternoon won’t cross anything off.

Still, made the decision for next time a no-brainer!